Sound Of My Voice
by Sailor Grape
Summary: HD slash:: After the final battle, Harry no longer spoke, and no one knew why. But a certain Slytherin was determined to figure out the mystery behind Harry's newfound mute state.
1. No Explanations

Title: Sound Of My Voice  
  
Author: GrapeSmshr  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Coupling: HP/DM slashy goodness  
  
A/N: Woohoo, a new fic! This is unlike anything I've ever written. I don't quite know if I can pull off the angst thing since I'm a fluffy writer, but we'll see if it works. I know it's short, but this is a test chapter of sorts, just to see where this stands. I have more written, so if the response is good, I may be able to post a second chapter by the end of this week. So read on and enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Time stopped that day. For everyone. It was the day that the fate of the wizarding world would be decided. Their existence, both individually and wholly, lie in the hands of one tremendously powerful, inherently evil wizard and one seventeen year old boy, forced unfairly into adulthood.  
  
No one knew exactly what happened that day. Said two wizards were the only two present at the last showdown. All anyone else knew was the brightest flash of light they had ever seen, followed by the quaking of the earth for almost a full minute. No, they weren't sure if they'd ever get the full story. One, the former, was dead and gone. The other wasn't talking.  
  
Literally.  
  
It was quite an anomaly. Even the specialists at St. Mungo's could not find the source of the problem, and they searched for an answer every day of the teen's three week visit. Since they found no physical damage, it was determined that the cause was psychological. But as he wasn't talking, they had no real proof of their assessment.  
  
Other than the lack of speaking, he was physically and mentally fit, so they had released him from St. Mungo's, in which time he rejoined his friends at Hogwarts and slipped back into his daily routines.  
  
Despite certain distinguishable personality changes, he was still the same person, it seemed. But no matter how hard anyone encouraged him to try and talk, he always adamantly refused for unknown reasons.  
  
Seven months after that fateful battle, the wizarding world had not heard a sound from their savior, Harry Potter.  
  
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So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Too short? Send me a review! I need to know these things! And don't worry, the actual chapters will be *much* longer than this little blurb. So if you're intrigued, let me know! 


	2. Nobody's Business

Title: Sound Of My Voice  
  
Author: GrapeSmshr  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Coupling: HP/DM slashy goodness  
  
A/N: I can honestly say that I didn't expect such a huge response, especially for such a short little blurb. You guys amaze me every single time, you really do! And because of your oh-so-wonderful support, I decided to post the second chapter. As I said, this one is *much* longer compared to the first chapter. So read on and enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The loud bell sounded, signaling the end of class. Everyone packed away their Transfiguration books and shuffled out of the room, heading off in different directions to their following classes.  
  
Dodging a group of giggling second-year Hufflepuffs, Ron Weasley turned to his companions and asked, "So what are we doing tonight? It's Friday, you know." It had been a hellish week all around, with mounds of quizzes and essays due. He was ready for some much needed fun, and he knew his friends were as well.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Hermione Granger scolded semi-jokingly, "We're getting closer and closer to the N.E.W.Ts, you know. We should really spend the weekend studying."  
  
"Oh, but studying is no fun!" Ron grabbed her hand and twirled her around the hall, to which she laughed merrily. "All I'm saying," he continued once they resumed walking, "is that I need a break." He turned around and began walking backwards, facing his two friends. "Are you up for it, Harry?"  
  
Looking at his redheaded friend's grin, Harry Potter couldn't help but smile back. He as much as anyone could use a break right about now. He gave an incline of the head, which made Ron's grin widen, if that were possible.  
  
"Wonderful! So tonight we'll--oof!"  
  
"Learn how to walk?" came an icy retort from the ground. Picking himself up gracefully, Draco Malfoy smirked at a glaring Ron. "We can always count on you to have trouble mastering a skill most learn before their second birthday."  
  
Stepping closer, the tips of Ron's ears turned the color of his hair as he opened his mouth, ready to deliver a scathing comeback.  
  
But before he could deliver that comeback, Harry stepped in-between the two, placing a hand on each of their chests in a way that told them to back off.  
  
"Get your hand off of me, Potter," Draco growled. But when the Gryffindor didn't comply, Draco made no effort to remove the hand. Instead he leaned forward in an attempt to get in Ron's face, but Harry held him at bay.  
  
Finally tearing his eyes from the angry redhead, Draco turned his attention to Harry. Those green orbs were laced with exasperation bordering on amusement, but they were also clouded with tiredom. "I've got better things to do," he conceded haughtily, holding Harry's gaze for a moment longer before turning on his heel and sauntering off. "See you in Potions, Potter!" he called over his shoulder.  
  
Shaking his head, Harry removed his hand from Ron's chest and gave him a lopsided grin, which instantly calmed him down.  
  
The three resumed their walking down the hallway, parting ways as they all headed to different classes. This year was quite bizarre for Harry, as he was the only one of the three to continue on with Potions. As an aspiring Auror, he needed the class. But Ron and Hermione were pursuing other careers which did not need Advanced Potions classes, so Harry had sadly bid them farewell.  
  
It was strange for him to be taking a class without his two best friends. He almost felt like he was missing two appendages. But after the first couple of months, he grew accustomed to their not being there. He even felt a surge of independence, as this was the first class he had taken without one or both of them. He couldn't say that he preferred their absence, but it was a refreshing change.  
  
Spiraling down the familiar stairwell to the dungeons, a reverberated humming in the air as his shoes clicked loudly against the hard stone, Harry found his thoughts turning to that of a certain blonde rival, who was no doubt already in the classroom. Draco had this quirk of always being in the classroom at least five minutes early, no matter what class it was. Harry found this highly amusing; he noticed quite a few years ago that the Slytherin always had to show up at meals at least five minutes after they started.  
  
But Draco's excessive timeliness was not what intrigued Harry the most. No, it would definitely have to be how surprisingly civil he was being towards Harry. While the two had spent most of their academic careers fighting with one another, that had pretty much stopped the past year. For whatever reason, Draco was being much more pleasant to Harry, especially after the war.  
  
And pity didn't factor in, Harry believed. He knew better than to ever suspect that Draco Malfoy would pity Harry Potter. But whatever brought this change about, he didn't quite know.  
  
The two were partnered in Potions, so Harry had a lot of time to actively study the blonde. And he did, on many occasions. Every so often, he would be caught by Snape, who berated him for his inattention. After Snape's back was turned, Harry would flip him off, and Draco would chuckle quietly under his breath, almost like he didn't want Harry to know that he was amused. Which Harry supposed was true. Malfoys seldom chuckled, especially in front of other people, especially Gryffindors.  
  
Slipping into the classroom, Harry took a seat next to Draco, who nodded his head in acknowledgment.  
  
"Ready for another rousing class, Potter?" Draco asked with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.  
  
Meeting the Slytherin's gaze, Harry blinked a couple of times. He always assumed that this was Draco's favorite class, what with his being so talented at it, not to mention being taught by his own Head of House.  
  
The question must have shown in Harry's eyes because Draco promptly answered, "This class bores me. I've been making potions practically since I started walking. The only reason I'm in here is because Severus asked. Otherwise I'd be in Advanced Arithmancy with your devoted follower, Granger."  
  
At this Harry snorted. Hermione was as much a follower as he was a Death Eater. But he knew Draco knew that. It was proven a few years earlier when Hermione had soundly and rightly punched him. Harry doubted the blonde could readily forget that.  
  
They sat in silence for a long moment. Harry was flipping through his book, trying to find the page they had stopped on in the last lesson. For the life of him, he couldn't remember where they were. Growling in frustration, he began flipping more rapidly through the pages.  
  
Then a pale hand shot out and covered his own, flattening it against the table. Another pale hand swiftly turned the page to the right potion.  
  
During this, Harry never looked up from the table, from the two hands that were all but melded together. He was downright fascinated by the fact that Draco had yet to remove his hand. Finally tearing his gaze away, he looked up to meet cloudy molten silver orbs.  
  
What surprised him the most was that Draco was staring back, all traces of normal Malfoy aloofness gone. Instead there was a genuine curiosity and uncertainty melding with a spark of something else Harry couldn't quite identify. But it was intense, suffocating, and Harry had never felt so content drowning in a moment as this one.  
  
Softly, yet with no hesitance, Draco asked, "Why don't you talk, Potter?"  
  
And just like that, the moment was ruined. Swiftly jerking his hand away, Harry turned to the book and began reading, eyes scanning the words but not comprehending. He could feel Draco's eyes on him, searing into his flesh, trying to peer into his sole, but he refused to look up, absolutely refused.  
  
There were certain things he wouldn't deal with, especially now, and certainly not with so-called arch-rivals. It was nobody's business but his own. But even as the thought entered his head, it was pushed right back out. He knew it wasn't true. It wasn't just his business because other people cared. Other people wished for his well-being.  
  
Did that mean that Draco cared?  
  
The idea was preposterous. Ridiculous even. But then his mind roamed to the past several months, when there had been no animosity between the two, no trouble started or petty fights instigated. And that was what they did best, so he couldn't help but stop and wonder if there was some underlying reason for the change.  
  
Even so, though, he would not discuss his problems with the blonde. He wouldn't even bring them up with his best friends. Months later, he was still trying to repress his nightmarish thoughts and doomsday feelings. It wasn't something he really felt compelled to deal with in the company of other people, so he didn't.  
  
All throughout class, Harry could feel the stares of Draco on him. There was no conversation as they focused on their potions, but Harry had the distinct impression that the Slytherin had something to say.  
  
Despite the uncomfortable silence, the class wasn't too bad. If this whole mute business brought about anything positive, it would be the fact that he was no longer constantly verbally assaulted by Snape. That wasn't to say that they held any kind of respect for one another. But the snide comments and constant putdowns had pretty much disappeared. While there was the occasional indiscriminate look, Harry was all but ignored. It really was one of his more crowning achievements, getting Snape off his case.  
  
At the end of class, Harry filled a vial with his potion, labeling it and placing it with the others on Snape's desk. He then cleaned up in record time, wanting to get out of the classroom as swiftly as possible so as to avoid any other questions. But even as he was walking out the door, he couldn't stop himself from glancing back. Once again he met those steely eyes, boring into him. Increasing his speed, Harry turned away and left.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Still intrigued? If so, then I'm doing something right! If not, well, remember when I said I was a fluffy author? I wasn't kidding! But I'm trying my best. In fact, I decided to change this fic around. Before I started it, I pretty much knew what was going to happen. But now I'm tempted to spin things in a different direction (thank you wintry; because of your review, I decided to lay off the cotton candy a bit and spend a little more time in Angst City). So it may be another week or two to get a new chapter out to you guys... This isn't going to be a super long fic, probably four or five chapters, but I'll see where my new thoughts take me. Anyway, please review! I absolutely love to hear from you, criticism and all!  
  
Thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed the first chapter. It means the world to me! I would thank everyone individually, but the majority of the reviews just said that the first chapter was too short and that I needed to update soon. So, was this soon enough for ya? ~*^ 


	3. Some Wounds Don't Heal

Title: Sound Of My Voice  
  
Author: GrapeSmshr  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Coupling: HP/DM slashy goodness  
  
A/N: You guys have so much control over me. I'm a puppet! Your response to this fic has been soooo amazing that I can't even comprehend it. I mean, in two chapters, I got 75 reviews. That is way beyond anything I've experienced in a long, long time. Because I am just so overwhelmed by happiness, I decided to post another chapter. Granted, this one is super short, almost as short as the first chapter, but I really didn't want to combine it with the next one. Besides, if I did combine it, you wouldn't see it until probably the end of the week. So be happy! And read on!  
  
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It had been a long while since anything had made him happy. When he lived a life such as his, it was quite understandable. Everything he had both witnessed and participated in, they all left scars, both physical and mental. His entire life was filled with nothing but insane rituals and lies.  
  
Which was why he could now breathe again.  
  
Seven months. It was seven months ago to the day that the world was saved, was changed. Seven months ago to the day he had been released from all that had bound him to the past, allowing him a new start.  
  
And he had leapt at the chance. Since then, everything was better. All of this was due to another teen who had been forced to grow up too fast.  
  
Harry Potter.  
  
Even before the war, Draco knew he was greatly affected by the other teen. It was inevitable for two individuals who put so much time and effort into studying each other to not be affected by the other. And Merlin, was he affected. All he had to do was glance at Harry to know that much.  
  
And he did glance. And look. And stare. And think. About everything. Because of this one teen, the entire wizarding world was still standing. It was quite amazing, actually, and unbelievable. And Draco saw that every time he looked at Harry, which was quite often.  
  
But because of this extended looking, he also noticed things he believed others didn't. Sure, it didn't take a genius to see that Harry refused to talk, that he was reluctant to push through his memories and reveal his battle scars. But there was so much more there that he was almost positive no one but he had noticed. One glance at Harry's face told everything. The skin at the curves of his mouth that stretched when he smiled because smiling was a rare commodity these days. The way his skin lost some of its natural bronze color from his lack of flying. When Harry had quit the Quidditch team, Draco had almost immediately resigned. Sure, the game was fun, but there was no real challenge if the only other person who had any real skill had quit.  
  
All of this, it was nothing when compared to Harry's eyes. On good days, his eyes had a slight twinkle to them, almost matching his previous days of carefree happiness. Most of the time, though, his eyes shone an opaque, jaded emerald color that was only a glimmer of what they originally shone. And they showed glimmers of pain laced with guilt. But mostly they possessed a tiredness, an overall exhaustion from going on about each day in a normal routine, from having a plagued sleep if there was sleep at all, even from just being alive.  
  
Draco understood these emotions quite well, as he had experienced them all in the past year. When he betrayed his Slytherin heritage. When he announced his refusal to follow the Dark Lord. When he was kicked out of his parents' house. When he had watched the last sparks of life dwindle from Lucius's eyes due to a curse inflicted by his own son. When his mother had shortly followed. Yes, there were certain wounds that would never heal.  
  
And he had moved on with his life, found a way to deal and resume his normal activities.  
  
Only he wasn't normal. Nothing was normal, especially since a certain teen had fallen and could not lift himself up from the depths of hell in which he currently resided. But Draco would not let that be. He refused. He wanted to be happy again, and he knew that Harry longed to be happy again. So he was going to fix that.  
  
If it took every fiber of his being, if he ended up killing himself in the process, he was going to get Harry to talk.  
  
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I was going to respond individually to reviews, but that would've been like 50 responses I had to write, and I really don't have the time. I'm supposed to be studying for my Sociology of the Family test that I have tomorrow morning, but I decided to post this chapter instead. So I just wanted to thank everyone profusely for reading and reviewing. I love and appreciate every single one of you! So please continue on in the reading and reviewing because you're just so good at it! 


	4. Hideaway

Title: Sound Of My Voice  
  
Author: GrapeSmshr  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Coupling: HP/DM slashy goodness  
  
A/N: I apologize for not updating sooner. I hadn't gotten to write much for the past week because I've been swamped with tests at school, not to mention dealing with some... family problems that are causing anger management issues on my part. But I did belt the rest of this chapter out at school this morning, so I decided to go ahead and post it. Hope you enjoy!  
  
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It turned out that the Trio weren't the only ones suffering from a grueling week. Many of the seventh-year Gryffindors decided to hold a giant Exploding Snap tournament. This lasted for a good three hours in which Parvati Patil was surprisingly crowned champion.  
  
It was well after curfew, almost midnight, but no one was really tired enough to sleep. The noise had reached a substantially high level, and Harry had quite the headache.  
  
Indicating to his friends that he was going to take a walk for a while, he grabbed his invisibility cloak from upstairs and headed out into the dimly lit halls of the castle.  
  
For a while now, Harry had been feeling uncomfortable around people. Even the House-mates he had known for seven years were giving him unsettling feelings. Unless it were small groups, he really felt out of place.  
  
Which was why he had taken to frequent walks after dark. Hermione and Ron knew he wasn't much of a sleeper these days, so they stopped questioning him and just let him be.  
  
Walking his familiar path, he didn't even need to keep his eyes open. He knew there were a dozen steps until he turned the corner, that a suit of armor would be on the right side, standing stoically next to a painting of a sleeping wizard with tangerine-colored robes. Not far past that was a section of wall where one stone at the bottom jutted out most inconspicuously. Kicking the stone twice, Harry waited patiently until the wall swung open.  
  
He had found this secret passage a couple of months before when, in a rather sour mood, he had kicked the wall to relieve some frustration. Now he often found himself using the passage. As he walked, the air became more stuffy, so he removed his cloak and tucked it into the crook of his arm. Reaching a large stone staircase, he began his ascent up the steep incline that would have easily killed a person with vertigo just by looking at it.  
  
Once at the top of the stairs, only slightly winded and panting, he slowly pushed on the stone wall to swing it open. The door led to a much neglected tower that he doubted anyone knew about. Upon his first arrival, the floor had a thick layer of dust, as did the one lone window. There was moss in the corners and spiderwebs on the walls, but he had cleaned all of that up.  
  
The tower became a haven for him, a safeplace away from life in general. It was his own space, his own escape.  
  
When he stepped into the tower this night, though, he was not alone. And there was no mistaking that shock of platinum hair attached to the body that was currently sitting in the window, staring out into the blackness of the night. The quarter moon spilled little light into the tower, casting shadows upon the Slytherin's face as he turned around at the sound of the wall moving.  
  
"Potter." He stood, eyes watching Harry, who had frozen in the doorway. Judging from his bewildered expression, Harry was not expecting to find anyone in the small circular room. Draco took a step forward, a hint of a smile on his face. When Harry made no move from the doorway, Draco said, "You *are* allowed further into the room. I don't bite, you know."  
  
Still hesitant, Harry contemplated bolting. He certainly wasn't prepared for the company of anyone, and Draco at that, not after Potions earlier. Then again, he didn't want the other teen to think that he was too horribly affected, even though he was. No, he knew he'd have to face this sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner.  
  
Curbing the urge to flee, Harry stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He stared awkwardly at his feet, unsure of what to do next. He really didn't like that feeling, either. He had come here for some peace, some rest, and now he was just more tense.  
  
But why should *he* be the one that felt so awkward? He was the one whose safe haven had been breached, whose secret tower was not so secret any longer.  
  
Raising his eyes, shoulders squared, Harry's narrowed eyes met liquid silver. His gaze was strong, unwavering. He refused to be the first to back down. But he could tell that Draco felt the same way. So they stared, the air in the room suddenly rising in temperature, electricity crackling between them even with their being on opposite sides of the room. The tension was now gone, being replaced with curiosity at the other's presence and an underlying self-consciousness that either felt only when near the other.  
  
It was Draco who backed down first, averting his eyes momentarily to collect his thoughts. When he looked back up, Harry was sitting in the window, watching him, studying him. One thing he noticed was that, in the silence, there was an intensity to everything that happened, including Harry's current scrutinizing stare.  
  
He couldn't help himself. Draco found himself confessing, "I saw you come in here about a month ago. I was on my way back from the kitchens when I saw you open the passage." He had been quite surprised to see the wall open up by itself. He was even more surprised to see Harry appear from underneath what Draco found out was an invisibility cloak. He hadn't followed, though he had wanted to. The only reason he was there now was because of what happened earlier. He felt inextricably drawn to the Gryffindor, had been for a while.  
  
But now he had a new reason for this obsession, this unheeding need to get close to him. He wanted to know what made the other teen tick. He wanted to know what had happened to him on that day, the day when everything changed. He wanted him to be like he used to be, witty and social. He wanted him happy. He wanted him.  
  
Period.  
  
And to accomplish that, he would have to get to the root of Harry's problems, meaning that he was going to have to get him to talk. He didn't have any real plan, any strategy. He was hoping to pick up some hints along the way to help him out.  
  
He turned his eyes away from Harry, scanning the room. "This is a nice place," he observed. "Have you been up here often?"  
  
Harry nodded once, a slight smile on his face from the compliment. It was obvious that he was very attached to his little hideaway.  
  
"It's nice to get away from everything once in a while, isn't it?" Draco continued, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Harry's smile faltered a bit. "The quiet, the lack of interruption by anyone or anything... It's the ideal setting." He continued in his sideways glancing as he saw a frown mar Harry's features. It would take a little more ebbing, a tiny push to get some sort of reaction, so Draco plowed on.  
  
"Did you notice the date? Friday the thirteenth. The thirteenth of May. Seven months to the day."  
  
Harry screwed his eyes shut. He had in fact noticed the date, had been thinking about it all day. Seven months. Seven long months has passed by in a flash, leaving nothing memorable behind. What was there to remember? He wanted to forget. All of it.  
  
But for some reason, Draco just wouldn't let it go, wouldn't let him forget. "What a day. I don't think anyone is quite the same now. Sometimes I find myself peering over my shoulder, wand raised, at the slightest noise," Draco admitted with a sheepish laugh. "I guess that's what happens when you experience the fun of dodging Unforgivables."  
  
By this time, Harry's breathing was hitched and ragged, air puffing out of his mouth in little gasps. He couldn't quite suppress that little ball of emotions that was rumbling in the pit of his stomach. Anger. Despair. Hatred. Fear. Fear of being found out, of Draco finding out...  
  
He rose from his seat, looking at anything that wasn't currently Draco Malfoy. He didn't want this--couldn't do this. He started to cross the room but was pulled back by a hand encircling his slim wrist. Helpless, angry eyes bore into liquid silver, trying to be intimidating but not quite pulling it off.  
  
Increasing the strength of his grip, Draco tsked softly. "This time, I get to leave first." Releasing Harry's arm, he set his jaw in a straight line and walked away, leaving Harry to slump against the ground like a defeated ragdoll.  
  
Yes, he was going to get to the bottom of this. He was going to get Harry to talk again, he just knew it.  
  
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This fic has taken a different turn than what I originally intended. I started writing the next chapter this morning, then realized that the plan I had in mind pretty much contradicted what I had written in an earlier chapter. So I'm gonna have to do some more thinking... No worries, though. If I try hard enough (or get inspired enough, hint hint) I may be able to get another chapter out by this weekend. So please review! I could really use the encouragement right now. I love you guys!  
  
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Thanks to:  
  
Freestyle-death: Woohoo, three chapters in one day! Isn't it so much cooler when you find a fic after a few chapters are already posted? I'm hoping the rest of the fic writes itself...  
  
curlytop: Ahh, adding more interaction with more characters... I'm working on it!  
  
Felton's Gal: Hey, football coaches are encouraging, so I appreciate it!  
  
Icy Flame: Hehe, thanks! It's great to hear that my imagination isn't cliche!  
  
BratPrincess-187: I keep working on making the chapters longer, but I would be giving stuff away too soon... I'm trying to make the last chapter a super long one!  
  
Localfreak: Thanks for the encouragement! I actually got a 98 on the test... got it back this morning! Woohoo!  
  
Who cares what my name is: Was this a soon enough update?  
  
Dream 27: Aww, thanks! Hope you liked this chapter!  
  
DaughterofDeath: Here's a new chapter!  
  
A Happy Little Bumble-bee: I know, they're both all traumatized. Yeah, I dunno where that came from, but I thought it appropriate that Draco killed his own father. As far as explanations go, I may or may not include one.  
  
N.U.Washa: Thanks for pointing that out. I even wrote that, too, and I know better! I tried to fix it, but ff was being dumb, so I'll do that later. But I appreciate the grammar check!  
  
oracale: Thanks, I try!  
  
SheWolfe7: Ah, I think everyone (reader-wise) wants to hear what Harry has to say, but none more than Draco...  
  
Crystalstorm21: Thanks so much! I'm trying to update as fast as I can!  
  
Queen Antigone: Hehe, well, I plan on making Draco's tactics very... persuasive...  
  
Emeline: Heh, thanks! Yeah, it's kind of hard writing a story where one of the main charas doesn't talk, but I'm having fun trying!  
  
CuriousDreamWeaver: Thanks! I'm trying to get both POVs since I think it's critical to get both of their takes on the situation. I just hope I'm doing everyone justice...  
  
GoddessMoonLady: I know, poor, poor Harry. But it'll get better, I promise!  
  
dwadwadaw: Ah, if only they were real... They'd have a bunch of fan-crazed maniacs chasing after them at all times!  
  
someonesgurl: Thanks! I have that last bit all planned out for the most part... Should be good!  
  
Mel: Hehe, thanks for that! I'm gonna try to update soon!  
  
polar springs: Your review made me laugh! I'll get to updating again, I promise!  
  
Alexis-Greenleaf: Thanks so much! I'm generally weary of having them exchange 'I love yous' in the story, too early or even at all. I tend to cringe at the fics that have them admit their love for one another after one chapter. I must say that taking an angsty approach is quite entertaining. It's nice to take another road for once. But I am still planning on my cotton candy ending!  
  
Thanks to everyone else who read but didn't review! I appreciate and love every single one of you! 


	5. No Destination

Title: Sound Of My Voice  
  
Author: GrapeSmshr  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Coupling: HP/DM slashy goodness  
  
A/N: Just when I think I can't be amazed any more, you guys really surpass yourselves. All of these reviews! Wow. I mean, wow. Amazing. Wonderful. You guys really are the best, you know that? So here it is, the next chapter that I hurried to finish so I could post it soon so you could read it. You know, as a treat for all of the wonderful reviews. Read on and enjoy!  
  
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Harry hadn't stayed long in the tower after Draco left. He had stood on wobbly legs and dashed out of there like a roaring dragon was on his heels which, he supposed, was partially true.  
  
Just what was Draco playing at? Was he purposely trying to inflict harm by dredging up old memories that Harry would just as soon pretend didn't exist? He was pondering this as he strode aimlessly across the dewy grass of the Quidditch pitch, invisibility cloak lying in a heap off to the side.  
  
He really didn't know what to think. All evidence was pointing at a deliberate attempt to infuriate him. But Draco had been so complacent lately that that argument couldn't be right. So what was it?  
  
Then Harry stopped, a wave of horror washing over him. What it he had found out? What if Draco found out what Harry had done on that day, seven months ago?  
  
But no, he couldn't have. Surely he would have said something... Harry relaxed, but only slightly. He decided that he didn't much feel like being outside any longer, being alone. He scooped up his cloak and headed back toward the school, unaware that from a far window a silver gaze was trailing after him.  
  
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Upon entering his dorm, Harry was plagued by a restless sleep. His usual nightmares were replaced with new ones, in which Draco kept demanding why Harry did what he did. More than once Harry had woken up with a startled cry, relieved that he had the foresight of putting up silencing charms around his bed. He was sure that he would have woken up his friends.  
  
At around five, he finally decided to give up on sleep and padded down to the common room, where he sat in front of the fire for another two hours before another person descended the stairs.  
  
He gave a pathetic half-smile to Ginny Weasley as she plopped down on the couch beside him. "Been down here long?" she asked, to which he nodded. "Couldn't sleep?" But she already knew the answer. His eyes were shadowed, unfocused. They usually were in the mornings, meaning that his meager amount of sleep had not been dreamless.  
  
Unlike her brother and Hermione, Ginny was not one to just let Harry be. She worried, and she made sure he knew that she worried. Giving an exasperated sigh, she told him, "You should be taking your dreamless sleep potions before you go to bed." When he didn't respond, only squeezed his eyes briefly shut, she said in a more quiet voice, "They're not helping, are they?" And she sighed again.  
  
Harry had heard this speech before from her. He hated being fussed over and worried about. But he loved Ginny. She was like a sister to him, so he tolerated it, just like he had tolerated Ron's and Hermione's concerned harping until they realized that it was a fruitless task.  
  
Trying his best to muster up a genuine smile, he kissed her on the cheek and slid off the couch, gesturing to her that he was heading upstairs. Changing out of his pajamas, he went downstairs and waved to Ginny on his way out.  
  
He had taken to having breakfast early on Saturdays because no one was up, and he liked the quiet. True to form, the only people in the Great Hall were a couple of Ravenclaws and Professor Flitwick, who was practically falling asleep in his porridge.  
  
Smiling to himself, Harry sat down and piled a plate high with food. The one thing that hadn't been affected were his eating habits. This was a sour spot with Ron, who complained that Harry ate and ate but never gained an ounce, even though he never exercised any more due to quitting Quidditch. But it was easy to keep the weight off because Harry spent hours each night just walking around.  
  
Quickly finishing up, he filled his plate again. Raising a fork to his mouth, he took no notice of the eggs spilling off of it and onto his lap as he stared in obvious surprise at the teen who just walked into the Great Hall.  
  
Draco Malfoy was having breakfast on a Saturday! And he was early! Never had Harry witnessed this. He always assumed that Draco slept in late and then had a House-elf deliver food to him in bed in the Slytherin dorm. Maybe he normally did.  
  
But not today.  
  
Even as he glanced away, Harry could feel Draco's eyes on him, just urging him to look up. The intensity was so great that Harry couldn't help but do so. And when emerald met silver, he regretted it.  
  
There was no looking away, no blinking. Harry had the strangest feeling that if he looked away, he might just faint. So he stared, unable to process what was going on, only knowing that he was not going to look away. He saw into the depths of those eyes, those bottomless, mercury pools. He could read Draco's eyes like he'd never been able to before, and he was drawn into the raw, powerful emotions emanating from the blonde. Once again, that suffocating feeling swept over him in a mixture of sublime pain that he never wanted to let go of.  
  
But he soon found himself staring at air as Draco rose from his occupied spot. Eyes focusing, he watched as the Slytherin left the Great Hall. Emerald clashed with silver once more, and then he was gone again.  
  
Feeling weakened, Harry slumped back against his chair with a shiver. What had he gotten himself into? He knew this wasn't the end of it; all of the tension and electricity was going to build up until it erupted in a climactic explosion. Moaning, Harry averted his eyes as a group of Hufflepuffs walked by, glancing at him curiously. As the Great Hall started filling up, Harry felt this urgent need to get out of there. He knew his friends would be able to tell that something was wrong, and he didn't feel like being barraged with more questions.  
  
Standing up, he quickly scrambled out of the room.  
  
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All day he had been walking around, doing virtually nothing. Not talking to anyone, not heading anywhere. He had no destination. He was just walking. Luckily he managed to dodge his friends; his heightened senses allowed him to hear them before they appeared so that he could find a hiding spot and let them pass.  
  
He knew he was preoccupied because he didn't even take the time to stop and terrorize the first-year Hufflepuffs that barreled around a corner and almost trampled him.  
  
No, Draco had other things on his mind. Other people. A specific person, in fact. And his mind was plotting furiously, going into overdrive.  
  
It was going to work. Whatever he came up with was going to work. He wasn't just watching this from an objective, or less-than-objective, window. There was an emotional distance, or closeness, that was also there. He knew firsthand the pain and guilt that stemmed from the war, which Draco had participated it actively. One couldn't just go through something like that and come out untouched.  
  
Most of that was due to the fact that Draco was living a completely different life than he was supposed to. After all, he had been brought up to become a Death Eater. And when that didn't happen, his life fell apart. Or came together. The two were synonymous in his situation.  
  
But after that happened, after he had been dropped into this existence that was completely foreign to him, he had changed. And after the war, after he had been faced with the demons from his life that should have been, he had not taken it too well. Granted, he hadn't been hit with something as drastic as a mute state, but he *had* developed an anger so great that his friends couldn't even be around him. Luckily for him, Severus, who was like a father to him, had been able to talk him down. It had taken quite a while to get over his anger, but he did.  
  
If the anger were replaced with guilt, then that would be what Harry was going through. Draco didn't want to help just because he had a thing for the other teen. He also wanted Harry to stop shouldering the burden of guilt that he shouldn't be. After all, he was the savior of the wizarding world. He deserved to be happy like the rest of them. More so even.  
  
And Draco wasn't going to stop until that happened.  
  
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Yay, another chapter! And yes, before anyone says anything, I know this one was also kinda short. But no worries, the next chapter will be longer. For the next chapter, my lovelies, will be the last. That's right! The end is upon us! ::insert doomsday voice here:: Anyway, please review! The more reviews, the faster the posts. Have I not proven that? Well, actually, this last update might take a little longer since I have a Sensation & Perception test on Thursday and a Sociology of the Family paper due on Friday (that I haven't started yet, btw). But I'll try my absolute hardest to write write write! I love you guys!  
  
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Thanks to:  
  
Beta 4 hire: Aww, I'm trying! I'm trying! Don't worry, the next one will be super long!  
  
dwadwadwa: Ooh, traps are a good idea! They're so much more efficient than chases. Thanks for the review!  
  
DaughterofDeath: Here ya go!  
  
TanisaFyre: There really is no telling with Draco... He seems to come up with some crazy stuff. This fic is no exception...  
  
Ravenfrog: Hehe, yeah, every once in a while I'll throw in little pointless tidbits. Glad someone appreciates them!  
  
someonesgurl: Thanks so much!  
  
Kaaera: Aww, you're such a sweetie. Hopefully you won't have to wait too long for the last chapter...  
  
Crystalstorm21: Hey look, I actually posted when I wanted to! Thanks for reading!  
  
BratPrincess-187: Thanks... The last chapter will tell you everything you want to know.  
  
amber-eyez: Aww, thanks! I know. I'm still amazed at all of the reviews!  
  
Evil Story Penguins: Hey, thanks! I was trying to be original. Don't think I've ever read any mute!Harry fics before.  
  
Wynjara: Only one more chapter and then you'll know!  
  
CuriousDreamWeaver: Thanks! I'm trying to make their interactions believable. It's no fun when people write them waaaaaay ooc.  
  
GoddessMoonLady: I know, it's short, but it's an update! Well, I thought Harry would do well with a little hideaway since he's a bit antsy around people. Plus it makes a good place for Draco and him to have a little privacy...  
  
Silver Neo: Hehe, your review quite amused me. And your fic was cute! Thanks for recommending HLaS to your friend. It's always nice to hear that someone enjoys my writing. Thanks!  
  
Silver Mouri: I know. Isn't it so weird that Harry doesn't talk? But don't worry; if anyone can get him to talk, it's definitely Draco.  
  
Mikito: Thanks so much!  
  
FawkesRises: Brilliant, huh? I don't think I could tire of hearing that. Thanks bunches!  
  
SheWolfe7: Good advice. This chapter was actually the easy one to write. The last one, though, may take a bit longer...  
  
Lo26: Thanks! Your review really made me feel good. Hmm, translating this might be a neat thing to do. If I decide to do that, I'll definitely ask you for your help.  
  
Queen Antigone: It's not every day you get to hear Draco babble... Thanks!  
  
Katrina: Wow, you're right. The song lyrics really do fit rather well.  
  
Emeline: Thanks! Yeah, the fact that only one can talk does put a twist around their developing relationship.  
  
Hay Lin: Hey, thanks! Your fic sounds pretty good... I'll definitely try and check it out!  
  
Alexis-Greenleaf: Thank you for your advice. I actually wasn't going for an 'obsessed Draco' take; I agree that it doesn't really work in most cases. I think this chapter cleared up a few things on his motives for helping Harry. At least, I hope it did. Thanks for the review! And yes, I did sort out my anger issues. ^*^  
  
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Thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed! I love you all! 


	6. Affections

Title: Sound Of My Voice  
  
Author: GrapeSmshr  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Coupling: HP/DM slashy goodness  
  
A/N: I can't believe it's the end! I mean, wow. And to think that originally this fic was going to be two, maybe three chapters long. I sure took a different route! I wanted to apologize for the late update. It took a few days to plot out what exactly I wanted to happen, and then I speed wrote for another few days, and here is the end result! To make up for my super short chapters, this last one is a monster. So read on and enjoy!  
  
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He didn't know where to go. In any which direction, he seemed to run into people that he inexpressibly wanted to avoid. He couldn't go back to the common room because his friends would be there. And he certainly couldn't go back to his tower. But he wanted to go someplace where there weren't a lot of, or any, people. And even though it may not have been one of the smartest moves he made, his mind was set.  
  
So he turned around and headed toward the dungeons.  
  
Well, he had always been known for being brave, not a brainiac. And while he did have a chance of running into the very person he was avoiding, he figured he could duck into a shadow and be safe. Besides, Draco never struck him as a hallway lurker.  
  
As he walked down a particularly shadowed hall, he couldn't suppress a shudder when a cold chill washed over him. He never really liked the dungeons. Not because they were dark and musty; that he didn't mind. It more had to do with the fact that this could've been his life had he not asked the sorting hat to place him in his current House.  
  
But he didn't like dealing with the Would Have Beens and especially not the Actually Weres. That was why he was in his current situation. That was why he was walking down a dingy dungeon corridor. That was why he--  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
--ran into the resident Potions master.  
  
Rubbing his sore arm where he had fallen against the wall, Professor Snape glared at Harry challengingly. "You do realize that you're way out of your territory, Potter," he ground out semi-maliciously, knowing full well that he was wasting his breath and his time insulting someone who refused to take the bait. He had found that one out on the first day back to classes after the war, when he had made an oh-so-astute comment about how Harry had managed to save them all from peril yet again. When he had gotten no response, no scathing comeback, no ferocious glare, not even a batted eye, he realized that his normal days of insulting Harry were over.  
  
After that his life had turned into pure chaos. When he wasn't dealing with Draco's anger problems, he was dealing with keeping his insults in check around Harry. Things were changing. If for the better, he wasn't sure. But he wasn't stupid, not by a long shot. He noticed Harry staring at Draco, had even busted the teen on it a few times. But he also noticed that the stares weren't one-sided. And when he had questioned Draco on it a few months ago, he had received only a vague response. And once again he reminded himself that he wasn't stupid.  
  
Thoughts returning once again to the current situation, Snape regarded the teen with a scrutinizing gaze, which Harry returned defiantly. It was almost like his lack of talking allowed the Gryffindor to grow a spine. Snape almost laughed at his inner musings. With a cool gaze, he said to Harry, "It's a Saturday afternoon, Potter. Most normal people would be outside in the sun, not wandering aimlessly down a windowless corridor." And with that, he continued on his way, inwardly smirking at leaving the teen dumbfounded.  
  
And Harry was certainly dumbfounded. He wasn't expecting to run into anyone, least of all Snape. And he most definitely didn't expect to leave the encounter on an almost pleasant note. This day could not possibly get any stranger.  
  
He decided that now would be as good a time as any to leave the dungeons. But as he climbed the stairs, he pondered where exactly he could go. He was in the same predicament as earlier. Although now he thought that his tower might be a safe option. Snape was right; most of the students should be outside right now. And most students included Draco. The odds were in Harry's favor, really.  
  
So he decided to chance it. As he ascended the hidden staircase in the passageway, his heart sped up a bit with apprehension. There was always that chance that Draco was going to be in there. He didn't know what he would do if he met the blonde.  
  
At the top of the stairs, he took a deep breath before quietly opening the door. Peering around it, he saw no sign of the other teen. Heaving a sigh of relief, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. At least that was one thing he didn't have to deal with.  
  
Making his way over to the window, he flopped down on the sill and closed his eyes, silently basking in the sunrays that tumbled over him. This was exactly what he needed right now.  
  
Unfortunately, it was not what he would receive. At a slight shuffling, his eyes flew open and whipped about the room. There was nothing--no one--there. He must have just been hearing things.  
  
But then he heard it again. And when Draco's head appeared from thin air, Harry was so startled that he lost his balance and smacked the back of his head against the window.  
  
As the rest of Draco was uncovered from where he was standing across the room, he said, "You're not the only one with an invisibility cloak." He proceeded to fold the cloak and set it down on the ground, which he had inspected for sufficient cleanliness before doing so. Turning back to Harry, he teased, "So, you've been avoiding me?" There was a hint of honestly in the question, and he already knew it was true. He just wanted it to be acknowledged, to show Harry that he--Draco--had indeed noticed.  
  
Harry's lack of response wasn't surprising. No nod, no frown, just eyes. Those seemingly endless eyes that showed how Harry thought he was damned. Draco always could read the other teen's eyes quite well. He had mastered the skill after Harry had stopped talking.  
  
Gracefully settling down on the stone floor, he said, "Potter, we need to talk." And when Harry gave him a dirty look, Draco didn't correct himself. He meant what he said. "The thing is," he continued smoothly, "you have become quite the novelty around school. More so than usual."  
  
Harry could feel the glare slipping from his face. He knew the blonde would never leave him alone until he got what he wanted. Harry supposed there was no way for him to stay sane while continuing to dodge these confrontations. Sighing in defeat, he sank slowly to the ground, leaning up against the wall.  
  
Draco had really expected Harry to put up more of a fight than this. Perhaps he was ready to give in, to explain himself. But as he observed the other teen bring his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his legs, Draco could see that Harry was still too withdrawn. It was time to up the ante a bit.  
  
"You have quite the ideal setup, Potter." At Harry's questioning glance, he continued with a wave of his hand. "This whole mute business. Quite ingenious, really. Everyone is walking on eggshells around you, even months later. You could get away with anything. Even murder."  
  
He watched as Harry's fists clenched, jaw tightening, but still he just sat there, staring straight ahead.  
  
"But I guess you wouldn't know anything about how to utilize a good situation. You *are* a Gryffindor, after all." He paused, waiting for any indication that his words broke through. He was greeted with nothing. Nothing physical, anyway. He could feel the tension rising in the room, could practically taste it. He was close and getting closer.  
  
With a lazy smile, Draco said, "It's only fitting that you turned out the way that you did. Look at the people who you frequent your time with." He had long since abandoned calling Harry's friends by their insulting nicknames, but that didn't mean he had any sort of liking for either of them. He knew that Harry was fiercely loyal and that his comments would strike a chord.  
  
When Harry's eyes narrowed just a fraction, Draco added, "But I suppose you can't blame it all on your friends. Look at your upbringing. And your parents--"  
  
Before he could even finish his statement, Draco found his throat being jabbed rather forcefully by Harry's wand. Taking the opportunity he had been waiting for, Draco smirked. "It's not quite as effective without being able to say the curse, now is it?" He was answered with another painful jab. This had better work. He wouldn't want to have gained a bruise on his throat for nothing, and he knew one was already forming.  
  
"Poor pathetic Potter. What are you going to do with your life now? You're being left behind. After graduation, after that... No parents. No godfather. Not even your friends. You'll be all alone."  
  
All alone... Harry's hand trembling, his still outstretched wand vibrating against Draco's column of throat. He briefly shut his eyes, only to open them again and find Draco's hard gaze boring into him, trying to force his next move.  
  
"All alone," Draco repeated with a deadly calm.  
  
That was all it took. At once Harry's wand was forgotten as he tackled Draco to the cold stone floor, throwing wild punches at the blonde through angry tear-filled eyes. He knew most of his hits weren't connecting, weren't causing too much damage, but he swung anyway. He felt a strange satisfaction when his right fist connected with Draco's jaw, felt an almost primal urge to continue hitting him, to watch the trickle of crimson flow into a river...  
  
And then he stopped in midswing, horror washing over him. What was he doing?  
  
But he had no time to contemplate this as Draco suddenly pushed Harry off of him and had reversed their positions so that Harry was the one being hit. Draco threw punch after punch, not relenting even as Harry's face contorted with pain and eyes refilled with tears. He was going to end this thing right now. "It's not just about you, you know!" Draco spat out. "Others lost people, too!"  
  
And when Harry didn't respond, Draco only punched harder. "Why"--punch--"won't"--punch--"you"--jab--"talk!" He reached his fist back, ready to deliver it with full force.  
  
Just before his fist made contact with Harry's left eye, Harry cried out, "Stop!"  
  
Huffing and puffing, Draco's arms fell limply to his sides. He was shocked, and he didn't know why. This was the whole point of his plan. But hearing Harry speaking after seven months...  
  
Leaning back, Draco fell into a sitting position. Still breathing heavily, he offered a hand to the equally out-of-breath Gryffindor.  
  
Eyeing the hand wearily, Harry hesitantly grasped it and allowed himself to be pulled up, his bruised body inwardly protesting. He was startled with Draco asked quietly, "So you *can* talk?"  
  
He was caught. There was no denying anything now. He nodded, a force of habit. Clearing his throat, he answered, "Yes, I can talk." He sighed, knowing that questions were going to be asked and that his answers would inevitably follow. He only hoped he was strong enough to give them. "I can talk," he repeated slowly. "There is nothing physically wrong with me."  
  
His implication hung heavily in the air, mingling with the almost suffocating tension and the quickly rising inner turmoil. Draco noticed Harry's reluctance to talk, but he wasn't about to let the other teen get away without an explanation, without the truth. Harry desperately needed to talk, and Draco was going to make him. "All this time..." Draco shook his head. "Why did you do it? What happened that day that made you stop speaking?"  
  
Harry felt memories start to flood over him, drown him. Image after image flashed in his mind, unrelenting barrages of the hell he had been witness to. Forcefully pushing them down to a dull roar, he answered, "What *didn't* happen that day? Sorry," he muttered as he noticed Draco's confused expression. "For a fraction of a second, the world ceased to exist. Voldemort had won. I had lost--had let the entire wizarding world down." Eyes downcast, he admitted, "In that fraction of a second, I gave up hope, surrendered. And that scared me."  
  
"But those are all normal feelings," Draco argued, hand gesturing emphatically. Naturally Harry was going to feel those things briefly. He had, after all, defeated Voldemort at the ripe young age of seventeen. Only a crazed idiot could have done that and not felt some doubt along the way. "Surely that's not the reason why you stopped talking?"  
  
"It's not..." Harry was amazed at how easy it was to start talking again. To another person, that was. Over the months, when in complete isolation from everyone, he would talk to himself to keep his voice from weakening. But as far as the rest of the world was concerned, he was mute. "It's much worse than that. I..." he trailed off, unable to continue.  
  
Leaning forward, Draco placed a reassuring hand on Harry's arm, only to have it shrugged off violently.  
  
"I don't deserve pity, especially not from you," he ground out bitterly, "especially not after what I did."  
  
"What did you do?" Draco asked after a pregnant pause. At this point, he wasn't sure that he wanted to know, but he was going to remain strong, for Harry's sake.  
  
Harry squeezed his eyes shut tightly, breathing labored. For a fleeting moment he thought he might pass out. But then he took a deep breath. Draco deserved to hear this. Harry would give him that much. Drawing in another ragged breath, he whispered, "I killed your father."  
  
Draco blinked in obvious confusion, unsure that he had heard correctly. Harry killed his father? Impossible. Maybe the other teen had finally lost it and Draco never noticed... but he would have noticed, so there had to be another explanation. "What are you saying? *I* was the one that killed my father."  
  
"I almost killed you, too."  
  
Almost unconsciously, Draco's left hand slipped under his shirt to run across his no-longer-flawless stomach. Gentle fingers met cool, puckered skin, a jagged scar that sliced across the otherwise smooth expanse of his stomach. It had been a parting gift from Lucius, his dear father. He probably could have had the scar magicked away, but he kept it to remind himself that he was still alive, that he had chosen the right path. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Harry sighed deeply, painfully. "In order to defeat Voldemort, I used a spell to invoke a lot of Dark magic. It was something I had been working on in secret. Not even Dumbledore knew. The spell was powerful, dangerous, and it--it affected me."  
  
"Affected you how"  
  
Harry opened his eyes again but refused to look up from the ground. "I felt this surge, this wave of power course through me, enveloping me, drowning me. It felt... evil. And for a minute, *I* felt evil." His voice was trembling as was his body, but he plowed on. "I was running toward Voldemort when Lucius blocked me. But I didn't want him. I wanted to kill him, yes, but I wasn't going to waste my energy because I was so focused on going after Voldemort. I told him that I had seen you just minutes   
  
before, that you were apprehending Death Eaters left and right. I even pointed him in the right direction." Haunted, cloudy emeralds looked up to meet Draco's gaze. "I sent him toward you, knowing he would be killed, that he was as good as dead."  
  
This was all new to Draco. He had see his father running toward him, had exchanged a few brief sentiments before the curses started flying. He never even stopped to wonder how Lucius had known where he was when they hadn't seen each other throughout that last battle. Draco's hand once again found itself tracing his scar, an imperceptible shudder engulfing his body. And he remembered all that it stood for to him. Looking Harry squarely in the eye, he said firmly, "My father was dead to me long before I met you."  
  
Harry's throat constricted painfully. "Your mother went rushing after him..."  
  
And Draco saw his mother running toward him, just in time to see the fatal blow delivered to Lucius. In a crazed outrage, Narcissa had raised her want to her only son but was struck dead before she could even open her mouth. It was the first and only time Draco had cried. Not for the loss of his parents, but for the gain of his freedom.  
  
"Listen to me," he said harshly to Harry, making the Gryffindor wince. "My parents were Death Eaters. Their deaths were inevitable. While I would rather have not been the one with the pleasure of killing them, I can't exactly change it now. It doesn't matter. I got over it. You need to get over your shit, too."  
  
"But it's not that easy!" Harry cried, shaking hands clutching tightly at the hem of his shirt. "I can still see him, can still feel what I felt when I was going after him. I--I tortured him. For a long time. I wanted him to feel pain, feel pain like I have felt all my life. I wanted him to suffer at my hands." Voice cracking, he whispered, "I was evil."  
  
"No." Draco reached forward and gripped Harry's shoulders tightly, startling him. "You were not evil. It was all of that Dark magic you had invoked. You stopped him. You saved the world from being his playground. You saved all of the half-blood and Muggle wizards from being killed. You are *not* evil," he repeated quietly, shaking Harry to try to get his words to sink in.  
  
"Sometimes... sometimes I could still feel the Dark magic inside of me, calling to me... I would wake up in the middle of the night with these feelings of bloodlust. It frightened me. It still does." His hands raised to cover the hands that were on his shoulders. "I don't want to feel this way," he said desperately, collapsing forward with a sob.  
  
Catching the broken teen in his arms, Draco pulled their bodies tightly together as he stroked Harry's damp raven hair. He didn't have much experience comforting others. He didn't deal with emotions well, or at all, but his entire mindframe was in comforting Harry.  
  
They sat that way for quite some time, the only noise Harry's soft whimpers that eventually died down to hiccups. The entire time, Draco never relinquished his hold, only pressed his face into the unruly mop of hair. He could feel Harry's heartbeat, could hear his breaths even out. Apparently all of that guilt and sorrow had exhausted him.   
  
Moving his head back, Draco turned his eyes to Harry's face, who met his stare. There were no tears, but the emerald orbs were rimmed with the slightest hint of red.  
  
"Why?" Harry voiced out.  
  
"Why what?"  
  
"Why did you make me talk? Why do you care about me, especially after what I did to you?"  
  
"What you did *for* me," Draco corrected, "and we already discussed that. The world deserved to hear you speak. You deserve to be a part of this world. And I care... I care because I do." He reached a lone finger up to trace Harry's cheek, down to his jaw before his hand fully cupped Harry's angular chin. "I cared long before the war. I cared much more after."  
  
Wide-eyed and disbelieving, Harry asked, "Do you mean..."  
  
But he knew the answer. Draco's expression was one of pure honesty, one that he had never worn before. "I want you to be happy, Harry. And I would be ecstatic if you were happy... with me."  
  
Harry almost couldn't believe his ears. What he had wished for and even suspected on occasion had just been confirmed. But how could he be with Draco after everything he had put the blonde through? "But what about--"  
  
His words were muffled as his mouth was suddenly covered by Draco's. Surprised but certainly not disappointed, Harry brought a hand up to the back of Draco's neck and pulled him closer, leaving no space between their hard-breathing bodies.  
  
Sighing as the kiss deepened, Draco felt like this was the most natural thing in the world, like they had been together like this for ages. It was comfortable yet exciting, both mind-melting and steamy. For a split second he smirked to himself. He knew his idea would work!  
  
Giving a few lingering kisses at the corner of Harry's mouth, Draco asked," So how do you feel now?"  
  
With a slight upturn of his lips, Harry replied breathlessly, "Like everything will be better from now on."  
  
"And it will be," Draco promised, kissing Harry's palm before clasping it firmly. "I'll make sure of that."  
  
Settling comfortably in Draco's arms, Harry stroked the pale skin of Draco's hand with his thumb. "So what do I do now?"  
  
"Now you show the world that Harry Potter still lives on."  
  
Harry twisted around to face the blonde. "You'll help me, right?"  
  
Softly caressing Harry's lips with his own, Draco murmured, "Always."  
  
The two stood, hand in hand, and left the tower that had now become their own.  
  
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The end! Say it with me now: aww... You all know me and my fluffy endings. I just couldn't put up with the angst any more! I hope I did both the fluff and the angst some justice. I tried sooooo hard on this fic to make everything as believable as possible. And I must say that it's one of my favorites (right up there with HLaS and Masterpiece).  
  
I want to thank everyone for the wonderful support you have shown in the production of this fic. It means the moon and stars to me, it really does. You guys are the amazing ones. I'm just the writer.  
  
Wow. I can't believe this fic is over already. It seems like I just started it! It's sad to be finished. Actually, I'm thinking about doing an epilogue where Harry announces to everyone that he can talk again. What do you guys think? Should I go for an epilogue or leave it standing, as is? Please let me know!  
  
I love you guys more than I love my Sailor Moon alarm clock (that's a lot of love right there). I hope you all will continue to be entertained by my upcoming fics (I do have a lot of them in the works), so stay tuned for them! 


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